


Better To Be A Friend, Than An Enemy.

by Jack_Wilder



Series: Enemies to Friends? Could be Stockholm syndrome. [1]
Category: The Blacklist (US TV)
Genre: Donald is over Henry's shit., Donald makes bad decisions., M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:08:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25080652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jack_Wilder/pseuds/Jack_Wilder
Summary: Henry didn’t get to where he was by being dumb.
Relationships: Henry Prescott | Mitchell Hatley & Donald Ressler, Henry Prescott | Mitchell Hatley/Donald Ressler
Series: Enemies to Friends? Could be Stockholm syndrome. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1816426
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	Better To Be A Friend, Than An Enemy.

**Author's Note:**

> It's my first time writing for this fandom. However, I needed to add to the few works starring these two gentlemen.
> 
> I was hoping that Henry would have been Reddington's new cleaner. Sure, Henry was a grade- A asshole, but he and Donald would have made a dangerous team.
> 
> If you see any errors, please to POLITELY point them out to me.
> 
> I DO NOT own any of the characters in the fic below. This is written purely for the enjoyment of the writer and the reader. No profit is being made from this or any of my other works.
> 
> ENJOY!!!

Henry Prescott would admit that the moment Ressler had his gun pressed up under his chin in retaliation for being slapped, he was even more intrigued by the man.

In this line of business, Henry has had clients who attempted to defy him before, but with a few simple words, and a reminder of why they required his services in the first place, they remembered exactly who was in charge. Except for one Donald Ressler, who had "unintentionally" killed the National Security Advisor to the White House, and the man was determined to defy Henry at all cost.

Henry both liked and loathed that about the FBI agent, when a sudden thought struck him. Instead of having Ressler as an enemy, maybe it would be more advantageous having him as a friend.

"I paid my debt." Ressler growled in his face, pushing the barrel of the gun harder into the delicate skin of Henry's neck, no doubt making sure that he would have a nice circular bruise there tomorrow morning.

Henry was unconcerned about being on the business end of the agent’s weapon, as an idea was forming in his head.

" _We are done_. Don't ever contact me again." Ressler holstered his weapon, and none too gently knocked his shoulder into Henry's upon leaving the warehouse.

Henry stared at the retreating man's back, shaking his head in amused disbelief. "You're something else Agent Ressler." He said to himself. 

The next time he called Ressler, he could hear just how much the man wanted to choke the life out of him and Henry grinned as he spoke on the phone. 

"I have a job for you." There was dead air, checking the phone, Henry saw that it was still connected. "Agent Ressler."

 _"You're a son of a bitch."_ Ressler hissed, and Henry had no doubt he was red in the face with anger. 

"Sticks and stones love." Henry mocked, as he checked himself in the mirror before leaving his penthouse apartment. "I have a job for you, and I expect you to be there in thirty minutes."

 _"No."_ Ressler's tone was forceful. _"I paid my debt, and I told you to never contact me again."_

Henry rolled his eyes, smiling at the door man as he exited the building and into the cool air of the early evening.

"Just be at this address in thirty minutes." He rattled off the address, and hung up, not allowing Ressler a chance to respond.

Henry arrived at the destination ahead of Ressler and got the items that they would be needing, before taking a seat on a bench, to wait for Ressler to arrive. Twenty minutes later, the man of the hour drove up, got out of his car, and Henry could see the confused frustration as clear as day on his face. 

He watched as Ressler scanned his surroundings, deeming it safe enough before slamming his car door closed and activating the alarm. Henry stood as Ressler walked up the few steps to where he was. Ressler's face morphed into a deadly scowl upon seeing him and Henry simply smiled back in the face of his barely restrained wrath. 

"The fuck are we doing here?" Ressler gestured to their surroundings with his left arm, his right hand resting on his gun.

Henry wondered if that was some type of a security blanket for him, before stepping to the side, and revealing the items he had gotten earlier on the bench behind him. "We are here to go a few rounds Agent Ressler." 

Ressler looked beyond Henry, to where he could see other people in groups or by themselves, before focusing back on the person standing in front of him, who he hated even more than Raymond Reddington. "Batting cages?" 

It had been a long week and Henry could see that the man was tired. Tough, Henry wanted him here, and if Ressler knew what was good for him, he would stay. 

"We are not friends, Prescott." Ressler looked like he would murder him given the chance. 

Henry ignored Ressler, turning to grab the two baseball bats and helmets, he walked off, and soon heard footsteps behind him. Henry had chosen two cages away from everyone else; he didn’t want anyone overhearing things they shouldn’t in the event the agent lost his cool. Ressler leaned against the metal frame of the cage’s entrance, his arms crossed over his chest, watching as Henry moved between both cages. He had no idea what the man was up, but knew it was nothing good. Once both cages were set up, Henry was back in front of Ressler.

"Lighten up agent." He knew his smirk was infuriating. "We're here to have fun." Henry clapped Ressler on his shoulder, before going to over to his own cage, donning his helmet and picking up his bat. Ressler had yet to move from his spot. "Person with the most hits win."

Ressler still did not move, choosing to glare at Henry who was now annoyed by the man's behaviour. Henry was out of his cage and in Ressler's face, his demeanour threatening. 

"Move your ass right now, or I will make your life even more of a living hell." He didn't want to do that. He actually wanted to treat Ressler like a friend, but the man was just too damn stubborn for his own good.

With great reluctance, Ressler straightened up and walked into the cage, making sure to shoulder check Henry once more for the day. He removed his jacket, laying it on the small bench that was provided before putting on his helmet and picking up his bat. Henry was back in his cage, taking up a batting stance when Ressler spoke.

"What's to stop me from beating your ass to death with this?" He swung the bat between his fingers, twirling it this way and that, impressing Henry with his dexterity. Ressler's glare was enough to kill someone.

Henry looked at him as if he had lost his damn mind. He slowly extended his arm, gesturing to the other customers who were further down the row of cages. "The many witnesses who would no doubt testify against you in court." He gave a few swings of his own bat. "Not to mention, you wouldn't have anyone to clean up the mess."

He glanced over at Ressler who was busy rolling up his sleeves to his elbows. Henry was taking a huge chance, inviting Ressler to the batting cages. Knowing the man, he would try to bash in Henry's head with the baseball bat. However, it was something he enjoyed immensely as a child, and an activity he still took part in when he had excess energy to burn, and he suspected Ressler would enjoy the physical activity. 

"What's the stakes?"

Henry was broken out of his thoughts by the question. He thought for a moment before answering, "loser buys dinner."

Ressler's cerulean blue eyes were on him, sharp and scrutinizing, trying to figure out what his angle was. "Be prepared to pay for the most expensive thing on the menu." He got into a batting stance. “I am going to own your ass.” He mumbled.

Henry grinned and shook his head, mimicking Ressler's position. The light on the ball machines turned green, and soon there was the continuous sounds of balls knocking hard against wood. The machines kept score of each ball that was hit. Henry was enjoying himself, and he was sure Ressler was too. Either that, or the man was highly competitive, he suspected the latter. The man was hitting each ball as if it had personally offended him, and Henry could guess whose face Ressler was imagining each ball to be.

Henry missed the next ball, when he heard something like wood breaking. He turned to look at Ressler who was staring at the broken bat in his hands. The bat had broken in half, with the top half having flown into the chain-link fence surrounding Ressler. There was a moment of silence before Henry started cackling uncontrollably. 

"Damn, _Captain America_ , what'd you have against the bat?" Ressler rolled his eyes, and took of his helmet, going to sit on the bench. Henry's eyes followed him, "I'm not paying for that." He was still chuckling.

Ressler ignored him, opting to lean back against the fence and close his eyes. He felt when Henry sat beside him, their arms brushing, but kept his eyes closed. 

"According to both machines, we tied." Henry informed him, "but since you broke your bat, I think it's safe to say that this game is mine."

Ressler scoffed, "why am I not surprised." His eyes remained firmly closed even when Henry nudged him with his shoulder. 

"You owe me dinner, Captain America."

Ressler was up and off the bench, grabbing Henry's bat from his hands and pressing the end of the bat into his throat. His cerulean blue eyes were blazing with a furious fire and Henry slowly held up his hands. 

"Do. Not. Call. Me. That." Ressler pressed the bat further into Henry's neck, making him have to lean back into the fence, trying to alleviate the pressure. 

"I'm sorry," Henry apologised, much to the shock of Ressler. He cautiously eased the bat away from his vulnerable neck, and Ressler allowed him. "I won't do it again, Donnie." 

The bat was this time pressed horizontally across his neck, Ressler's teeth were bared in a snarl. "We are not friends. It's 'Ressler'."

Henry grinned in the face of imminent death, "but I like the name 'Don-" his words were choked off from Ressler pressing harder. He raised his hands in surrender and Ressler eased up and moved away. 

"I am going to pay for what I broke." He grabbed his jacket from the bench and stalked off, leaving Henry rubbing his neck.

Having returned their rented gear, Ressler and Henry stood in the parking lot by the former's car. 

"It's been a hell of a week. I am exhausted." Ressler did look exhausted, Henry mused. "I want to go home, shower and sleep."

"It's a Friday night, you can sleep in tomorrow." Henry smiled at Ressler's glared before relenting. "Fine, you can go."

"Oh gee, thanks." 

"No need for sarcasm."

Ressler rolled his eyes and opened the door to his SUV, and got in. He didn't get a chance to close it as Henry had moved into the space provided by the open door, he braced one hand against the roof of the vehicle, meeting Ressler's wary gaze. 

"This was fun. We should do it again." He straightened up. "Have a good weekend agent. And remember, you owe me dinner." He gently closed the car door, wondering what Ressler had to say when he rolled the window down.

“I suggest you move from my car, before I _accidentally_ run you over.”

Henry had a nasty comeback on the tip of his tongue, but smiled instead, as he stepped up on the sidewalk and out of harm’s way. He watched as Ressler reversed out of the parking space, and lifted an arm to wave ‘bye’ as the agent drove off.

“Not a bad start.” Henry murmured to himself, as he walked to his car, thinking of where he could take Ressler for that dinner he was owed.

**Author's Note:**

> Winged it with the batting cages. 
> 
> I accidentally broke a softball bat in P.E. when I was in high school. Apparently there was a manufacturer's fault, and I hit the ball too hard one too many times, and the top part of the bat shattered.


End file.
